Rowan

Marco Rossi was one of my oldest enemies. For years, we hunted each other like beasts, each encounter ending with blood and unfinished vengeance. This time, he won.I never saw the trap until it was too late. His men seized me, twisted my arms behind my back, and shoved me into the back of a van. My hands were tied so tight my fingers went numb. The beating came without mercy—fists, boots, pain exploding again and again until I lost track of time. When the van finally stopped, they dragged me out like dead weight.They threw me into a basement and slammed the door shut behind me. Only then did they untie my hands—an act of mockery, not mercy. I didn’t need chains to know I couldn’t escape. I was completely trapped.When I turned around, I saw her.A young girl , too young. She sat curled in the corner on a filthy, broken bed. Her knees were pulled to her chest cover her barley covered body like she was trying to disappear into herself. Heavy chains bound her ankles and wrists, biting into bruised skin. Her face—once beautiful, I was sure—was swollen, marked with cuts and fading purple bruises. Fear lived in her eyes, quiet and exhausted.I had heard the story before.Marco had kidnapped her after killing her father. Kept her here. A prisoner. A slave. His plaything. He used her when he wants, who ever he wants. Her lips trembled as she looked at me.“Y-you… came here to save me?”I couldn’t answer her right away. The truth sat heavy in my chest. I was no savior. I was just another captive.Slowly, I shook my head.“How could I save you?” I said coldly, bitterness creeping into my voice. “I’m trapped here too.”She stared at me for a moment, then nodded without a word. Pulling her knees closer, she turned inward again—retreating into the small, broken space she had carved for herself in this hell. I know he'll come again for me or her.